


Close Your Eyes

by genee



Category: Bandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-18
Updated: 2008-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:12:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genee/pseuds/genee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It's not like they take turns, but dude had killer weed and he's letting them all crash here, and he's pretty into Gerard already, so.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Your Eyes

Matt's fucked off with some girl from the venue and Brian's been MIA for about a week, but they have a gig tomorrow night about seven hours from here and no one wants to sleep in the van again if there's another option. There's a good size bed in the room dude said they could use, his roommate was out of town or something, Mikey wasn't sure. He might've zoned out for a while there. The thing is, dude's cute in a button-down just-out-of-college sort of way, like he probably has an office job and 401k plan, like he was maybe in one of Mikey's classes last year, or maybe the year before. It's a little creepy, thinking about that, but Ray says he's pretty sure dude isn't gonna stab them in their sleep or anything, and that's good enough for Mikey.

That, and the bed is really comfortable. And Frank's all pressed up against him now, Ray, too, and Mikey's really fucking beat. Besides, it's Brian's job to figure this shit out, not Mikey's. Mikey's got his own shit to worry about.

"It's okay," Gerard says, and Mikey scratches his fingers through the tangle of Frank's hair, drags his nails across Frank's scalp, behind his ears, the nape of his neck. Frank twists his fingers in Gerard's shirt, wipes his nose on his own sleeve, and Mikey sighs, holds him close. It's really not okay, and it's not like they take turns, but dude had killer weed and he's letting them all crash here, and he's pretty into Gerard already, so. "There's something so good in my head now," Gerard says softly, what's left of his eyeliner all smudged to hell. "I got this, no problem."

Frank presses a tired kiss to Gerard's lips, and Mikey wonders if dude has a washing machine somewhere, if he can get away with using it while everyone sleeps. He doesn't give a shit about his clothes, personally, and God knows Gerard doesn't either, but a hot shower and clean clothes to change into will make Frank smile for the rest of the week, and if dude has a problem with it, if he thinks Mikey over-stepped or whatever, Mikey'll blow him in the morning before they go. It'll be worth it. It might even be hot, dude all pissed off and grabby, thinking about what a fucking awesome story this'll make some day, how cool it'll be if their shitty little band actually makes it big.

Gerard brushes his knuckles across Mikey's cheek, says, "Sleep tight, wild thing," and takes Mikey's glasses off for him, sets them on the bedside table. Books, tissues, a half-empty glass, a remote control; Ray rolls over, warm against Mikey's back, and Frank mumbles sleepily, curls into Mikey's chest. Mikey closes his eyes, hears Gerard laughing in the hallway, hears dude laughing, too, doors opening and closing, the music turned down low.

Mikey hopes there's a fancy coffee maker in dude's kitchen, or maybe a french press, fuck, that'd be nice. He thinks about shade-grown beans and the rich, oily taste of good coffee pressed just right, thinks about how long it's been since he slept with someone just because he wanted to, someone not in his band. He thinks about Gabe, the thrum of his voice in Mikey's ear, the feel of his hips, the taste of his skin, his mouth, his hands. He breathes in the smoky scent of Ray and Frankie, reminds himself to try Brian's cell again first thing in the morning, lets himself drift off to sleep.

 

\-- End --


End file.
